


Buttonso In The Sun

by FormulaFerrari



Category: Formula 1 RPF
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-10-01
Updated: 2015-10-01
Packaged: 2018-04-24 07:55:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,612
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4911508
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FormulaFerrari/pseuds/FormulaFerrari
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's not been the best year for McLaren-Honda, but at least the drivers (and us) get some light relief behind the scenes…</p><p>A collection of Buttonso ficlets</p>
            </blockquote>





	Buttonso In The Sun

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There is something pretty interesting in Jenson's hotel room..

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A small part of one fic that expanded into a fic all by itself…
> 
> This is for **jb22fa14** and the next one will be also. They're based on this BBC interview with JB and DC: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=cCpaBdeG7kk &feature=youtu.be
> 
> Enjoy!
> 
> *JB17*  
> \- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

“Fernando!” Fernando jumped out of his skin as the heavy pounding began on his hotel room door. He collected his phone off the floor (where it had fallen when he just dropped it) and pushed himself off the bed, frowning as he crossed to answer and stop the pounding. His teammate was literally bouncing on his heels as the door opened, a bright grin on his face. Fernando frowned, not understanding, and folded his arms.

“What?”

“The _best_ thing has happened!” Jenson enthused; his grin widening so much it looked like it was about to split his face in half. Fernando raised an eyebrow at him.

“McLaren have decided to return to Mercedes engines next year?” He joked sarcastically. Jenson rolled his eyes.

“No. Don’t be a kill joy.” Grabbing his teammate’s wrist he dragged him from the room and started pulling him down the corridor.

“Jenson-!”

“-Come on! You have to see!” Still dragging Fernando, who was trying to get back to his room, Jenson exasperated a breath.

“I need my-” Fernando’s sentence was cut off as his hotel room door shut itself. He dropped his head back, closing his eyes. “Key…”

“Mate, you’re not going to want to leave my room once you’ve seen this.” Jenson galvanised, ushering a now incautious Fernando towards his room. Fernando pushed out of his grip just before he opened the door. “What-?”

“-This is not another of your jokes is it?” Fernando asked, looking a little nervous at him. Jenson just laughed, unlocking the door.

“No.” He shook his head. “Now close your eyes and trust me.”

“Those two things do not work in the same sentence…” Jenson hold his hand out towards Fernando jumping in the way of his view as the Spaniard tried to peer around the Brit.

“It’s a surprise. Good surprise. Now trust me.” Knowing how persistent Jenson could be (and knowing that persistence with Jenson in these situations could only really lead to some kind of practical joke) Fernando gave up trying to look into the room. Against his better judgement he closed his eyes, wrapping his fingers around Jenson’s and feeling the warmth of normality. Smiling brightly, Jenson lead Fernando blindly into the room. “No peeking!” Jenson said, pressing his free hand over Fernando’s eyes. Fernando exasperated.

“Was not.”

“Yeah well, this is a precaution.” Jenson beamed, positioning Fernando in the centre of the room. “Ready?”

“As I will ever be…” Fernando muttered as he nodded.

“Ok.” Jenson took his hand away as Fernando opened his eyes. He waited like an excited child as Fernando took in what was in front of him. Fernando sent a confused look Jenson’s way.

“Is a podium…?”

“I know! How fucking cool is that!” Jenson hopped from foot to foot, sending a love struck stare towards the three-tiered steps. Fernando eyed him cautiously.

“You ask for a podium…?”

“No, it was just in here like that thing.” Jenson said, waving a casual arm towards the tool cabinet that was sat in the corner of the room. But the Brit’s attention was completely focused on the podium. Until he realised Fernando wasn’t quite so enthused as he was. “Why aren’t you giddy? It’s a podium, Nano!”

“Yes, I see this.” Fernando nodded. “And there is one at the circuit and all of the other circuits…?”

“Yes but this one is _here_ and it’s in _my room_!”

“Yes….”

“This is the first time I’ve seen a podium all year!” Jenson tried to explain. Fernando still didn’t appear to be understanding.

“…OK… Well, am going to go and try and get another key from downstairs so…”

“Fine! No podium for you!” Jenson called after the leaving figure of Fernando. He grabbed the lamp from the side table, just as he had earlier, and climbed up onto the top step. “But I get the podium cause I won the race!” Jenson wasn’t sure if Fernando had left or not.

That was, until his head popped back around the doorframe, eyeing Jenson on the podium with intrigue.

“Come down for a second?” Fernando asked, moving back into the room. Jenson frowned at him, hopping off the podium.

“What-?”

“-HA! NOW I WIN!” Fernando cheered, snatching the lamp from Jenson and jumping onto the top step, raising the lamp above his head victoriously. Jenson huffed at him.

“No, because you didn’t want to be on the podium.” Fernando scoffed at Jenson, hugging the lamp close.

“I win. You can be second.”

“No! It’s my podium!”

“Well you lock me out of my room so now is _our_ podium.” Fernando smiled, sticking his tongue out at Jenson and dusting off the lamp. Jenson rolled his eyes.

“I found the podium so I win.”

“No because Fernando is faster than you.” Fernando beamed cockily, waving the lamp at Jenson. Jenson glared at him.

“Get off.”

“No.”

“Fernando-” Fernando interrupted whatever Jenson was about to say, breaking into a very loud version of the Spanish national anthem. Halfway through Jenson reached his limit, belting out the British national anthem in a sorry attempt to be louder than Fernando, climbing onto the second-place step. Fernando stopped singing as soon as he was stood beside him.

“There. Perfect.” He winked, pushing his hand into his pocket. “Now a photo as evidence.”

“No way. We need a fair way to decide who wins.” Jenson said, folding his arms. Fernando contemplated his proposal.

“Like… A competition?”

“Like a race.” Jenson clarified. “And the fastest driver gets to stand on the top step.” Fernando nodded slowly, his brain calculating.

“Ok….”

“How about, from the ground floor up the stairs. First one to the room gets the top step?” Fernando smirked.

“I will be faster.”

“I do a lot of running myself, buddy. Every heard of the Jenson Button Triathlon?”

“Is long distance, not sprinting. I am small and fast.”

“Well how about you stop with all the chatting and we put this talk into action?” Jenson grinned, a twinkle in his eye. Putting the lamp down, Fernando hopped off the podium, moving towards the door. “SUCKER!” Jenson laughed, claiming the lamp and raising it above his head, singing the British national anthem again.

“This is not winning!”

“It is winning through wit and principle.” Jenson beamed once he finished his rendition. Fernando rolled his eyes. “Second is always open, mate.” He beamed, gesturing to the spot beside him.

“Or we actually race?”

“Nah, I’m quite happy here now.” Jenson sat down, relaxing back against the wall. “Yup. I might emigrate to this exact spot…”

“Is not real winning…” Jenson just smirked at Fernando.

“But it really is isn’t it.” He winked. Fernando folded his arms.

“Do not care.”

“You do.”

“Fine. I do… But you have to get off it at some point.”

“Nope. I’m sleeping right here. You can have the bed.”

“So generous.”

“I know right.” Jenson smiled brightly. Fernando moved and sat on the end of the bed, just watching Jenson closely. “Something tells me you won’t get much sleep tonight.”

“Neither will you.”

“I’ll sleep like a log knowing I won.” Jenson grinned, tucking his hands behind his head.

“But have not won yet.”

“I think I might have, Nano.”

“What if you need the bathroom?”

“I don’t. I’m good.”

“Maybe at the moment…” Fernando shrugged, getting up and crossing the room. Jenson opened his eyes to frown at him, rolling them when he heard the toilet flush.

“That won’t work, Fernando!” Jenson called. Fernando just reappeared calmly, moving over to the fridge and getting out a bottle of water.

“When is the last time you go to the toilet?”

“I’m good, Fernando. I assure you. I’m in an F1 car for two straight hours and I deal with bladder control then. This will be nothing.”

“Ok.” Fernando said calmly, getting a glass out and unscrewing the bottle top. “As long as you are sure.”

“I’m sure.” Jenson smiled, relaxing back and closing his eyes. Fernando nodded before watching Jenson closely as he slowly began to fill the glass up with water. Jenson tried not to hear it but the rest of the room was so quiet it was almost like Fernando had put it on loudspeaker. He shook his head; trying to relax but the longer he sat just listening to the water the more it started to have an affect on him. “What exactly are you doing?”

“Pouring a drink…” Fernando smirked, making sure to break up the stream from the bottle every now and then to cause a stuttered affect. “Is this a problem?”

“No…” Jenson swallowed, adjusting his seated position so his thighs were pressed together. “Not a problem at all.”

“Good.” Jenson let out a sigh of relief when the pouring stopped completely; Fernando had emptied the bottle. Taking a deep breath he relaxed back against the wall. For about five seconds.

“Why are you pouring another!?” Jenson shot, sitting forwards and glaring at his teammate as he proceeded to fill a second glass with water. Fernando looked at him innocently.

“Am pouring one for you.”

“Bastard!” Jenson spat, rushing towards the bathroom. Fernando just grinned to himself, slowly making his way over to the top step if the podium and dusting it off.

“Fernando is cleverer than you!” Fernando chuckled, undressing to his boxers and pulling the duvet off the bed before wrapping himself in a duvet burrito and settling on the top step. Jenson did not look amused when he left the bathroom. “I win.” Fernando winked.

“The game isn’t over yet.” Jenson stated, moving towards the bed. Fernando just giggled, snuggling lower in his duvet cove.

This was going to be a long night.


End file.
